If I was sticking to any kind of real system for titling these posts, this would be PVR 5.0 as I am writing it on Day 5. However it is about Day 4, and should have been written and posted yesterday. Be glad it was not, for it would have been truly grumpy!
Yesterday did not go well. Not in any terrible way – we didn’t miss a plane or get hit by a bus. In those small ways that rob you of life’s little pleasures. All day I was plagued by weak coffee. I concede that this is a “first world problem” of the most banal order, but still. The coffee here was so good last year! I should have bought a barrel and had it shipped to Canada. I could have pumped a cupful out of it every day. By now I’d be down to the sludge at the bottom. Heavenly! Every time I lifted my travel mug yesterday it was like drinking warm dishwater. One of them was so bad that I took it back to my room and poured it down the sink. Which promptly clogged on the coffee grounds. How they got so many grounds in it without infusing some flavour escapes me. Even the stuff at the actual coffee bar where I do my writing wasn’t much better.
There was a mix-up over the poolside cabanas. They were still able to accommodate Caroline in one she likes, so it was just the awkwardness of the double booking and all the fussing and apologizing. The cabanas are really just little gazebos that provide adjustable shade for two lounge chairs and a little table. They provide no protection against the family next door that struggled to discipline their little boy for trying to drown his little brother over his failure to share toys. I was spared overhearing it, but I gather the consequence for this transgression was the cancellation of his acquiring a toy he wanted, with the additional requirement that he explain which of his actions brought this penalty about. He was apparently very reluctant to put it into words, so perhaps this is an effective deterrent. I think perhaps I could approve of this kind of parenting, but I prefer to disapprove of all parenthood on a blanket basis.
We walked to Wal-Mart after breakfast to buy Caroline some walking shoes. The shoes aren’t perfect, but they are better than flip-flops for walking. It will also give her something other than sandals to wear for the return trip to Winnipeg. It’s forecast to turn cold again the day we go back.
My homework was a challenge. I had to constructively criticize some samples of professional writing by renowned authors. Since one of the samples made me angry, one left me cold, and one baffled me, this was difficult. Some decent coffee would have helped!
Dinner was a trial. Many of the poorest TripAdvisor reviews of this Hilton call attention to the overabundance of Mexican food at the buffet restaurant. I think A) this is absurd by definition, and B) the Mexican food is excellent. However, last night the theme appeared to be Tex-Mex. Our Mexican cooks seem to be perplexed by this cuisine. Hard shelled tacos pre-filled and served cold. A variety of fajita fillings, but only corn tortillas to put them in. Gristly spare-ribs. I am not kidding when I say the coleslaw was the best thing to touch my plate last night. Caroline forlornly made three attempts at the buffet, returning each time either empty handed or with something she could not bring herself to finish. Eventually she resorted to the pizza put out in the kid’s zone. It was doughy, and she ate only half a child-sized slice. The best she did was a tiny bun with some cold meat and cheese.
Adding to the misery of this meal was the blaring country music. This was our first clue that the strangely bad “Mexican” food was actually strangely bad “American” food. I am not a Tanya Tucker fan, leaning more towards ZZ Top. If the music wasn’t enough to drive me out, a big family sat near us and promptly got all over my last nerve. They were feeding their six kids cereal for supper, and complained to the wait staff that the bowls were not clean enough.
We fled to our room. I was in no mood to be my usual cheerful blogself. It is hard to be tongue in cheek when you are grinding your teeth. Cheered myself up by reading a chunk of Destiny’s Blood, rollicking good space opera by Marie Bilodeau, who is one of my tweeps. I plan to finish it while I wait for Caroline at the hair salon this afternoon. So far, I would confidently recommend it to anyone who enjoyed Star Wars.